Read Online Gumshoe Gorilla by Keith Hartman, Eric Dunn - Free Book Online
Authors: Keith Hartman, Eric Dunn
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and watched Daniel work the guy over. When it comes to getting men to do what he wants, Daniel is in a class by himself.
After a few minutes, Daniel maneuvered the conversation around to a vacation that he took in Mexico last January. He casually let it slip that he'd visited a nude beach, that a friend had snapped a few pictures, and that those pictures were currently up on his website.
The information had the desired effect on our mark. He whipped his palmtop out of his waistcoat and hurriedly navigated out to Daniel's website. Daniel leaned over, helping him find the address.
A few seconds later, the mark's shoulders slumped in disappointment. The pictures were not quite what he'd been hoping for. Oh, Daniel is quite fetching in his birthday suit. (And believe me, I know. The boy parades around naked every chance he gets.) But for tonight, I'd made him delete all the really juicy pictures from his web site. The only ones left were some face pics and a shot where the view of Daniel's body was blocked by a palm tree. After all, I didn't want his web page to be too exciting. Because now that the mark had shown us his palmtop, we needed to get his attention focused on something else.
Fortunately, Daniel makes a hobby of being the center of attention. He asked the mark his opinion on henna drawings, and then pulled up his shirt and gave him the "Moses dividing the Red Sea" description that he had already tried out on me. The mark left his palmtop on the bar, and never noticed when I picked it up as I left.
I grabbed the men's room key from the end of the bar, and locked myself away for a few minutes of quality time with the mark's computer. I figured I could count on Daniel to keep the guy distracted for at least ten minutes or so. Heck, Daniel could keep a guy distracted for a whole weekend, if he had to.
The first matter of business was to get into the mark's bank records and stock portfolio. Not that I really expected to find anything there. If the mark was hiding assets, he probably wouldn't stash them in such an obvious place. After all, those would be the first records that my client's lawyers would subpoena once the divorce papers were filed.
You know, I've always wondered why the activists back in the single digits were all so hot to get same-sex marriage legalized. I mean, what did they think would happen when they finally got legally binding gay marriages? Gay divorces, of course. And suddenly, everything gets a lot more complicated. So you think you're just gonna move out and get on with your life? Oh, think again my boyo. The two of you are gonna get to inflict a world of hurt and legal bills on each other, first.
As I'd expected, the bank records were a dead end. There were a number of suspicious withdrawals over the last six months, but the mark had covered his tracks pretty well, and I couldn't tell where the money had ended up. Luckily, I had a few more tricks up my sleeve.
I eventually hit pay dirt in the "old mail" file. Most operating systems don't actually delete a piece of mail when you finish reading it. Instead, they store it in a buffer for a month or so, in case you need to go back and review a correspondence. A lot of interesting stuff can pile up in that buffer. Including an account statement from a bank in the Cayman Islands.
Bingo.
So that's where the mark was hiding his money. I forwarded a copy of the statement to my client. I'm sure it would make for some interesting reading. Then I clicked my way back to Daniel's web page, and left the screen on the set of pictures that the mark had been admiring.
I washed my hands, splashed some water on my face, and then went out to put the mark's palmtop back on the bar before he noticed it was missing. All in all, I was feeling very pleased with myself. The whole operation had gone off like a charm.
Until the final stage, that is.
Except that Daniel and the mark were gone. They weren't at
After a few minutes, Daniel maneuvered the conversation around to a vacation that he took in Mexico last January. He casually let it slip that he'd visited a nude beach, that a friend had snapped a few pictures, and that those pictures were currently up on his website.
The information had the desired effect on our mark. He whipped his palmtop out of his waistcoat and hurriedly navigated out to Daniel's website. Daniel leaned over, helping him find the address.
A few seconds later, the mark's shoulders slumped in disappointment. The pictures were not quite what he'd been hoping for. Oh, Daniel is quite fetching in his birthday suit. (And believe me, I know. The boy parades around naked every chance he gets.) But for tonight, I'd made him delete all the really juicy pictures from his web site. The only ones left were some face pics and a shot where the view of Daniel's body was blocked by a palm tree. After all, I didn't want his web page to be too exciting. Because now that the mark had shown us his palmtop, we needed to get his attention focused on something else.
Fortunately, Daniel makes a hobby of being the center of attention. He asked the mark his opinion on henna drawings, and then pulled up his shirt and gave him the "Moses dividing the Red Sea" description that he had already tried out on me. The mark left his palmtop on the bar, and never noticed when I picked it up as I left.
I grabbed the men's room key from the end of the bar, and locked myself away for a few minutes of quality time with the mark's computer. I figured I could count on Daniel to keep the guy distracted for at least ten minutes or so. Heck, Daniel could keep a guy distracted for a whole weekend, if he had to.
The first matter of business was to get into the mark's bank records and stock portfolio. Not that I really expected to find anything there. If the mark was hiding assets, he probably wouldn't stash them in such an obvious place. After all, those would be the first records that my client's lawyers would subpoena once the divorce papers were filed.
You know, I've always wondered why the activists back in the single digits were all so hot to get same-sex marriage legalized. I mean, what did they think would happen when they finally got legally binding gay marriages? Gay divorces, of course. And suddenly, everything gets a lot more complicated. So you think you're just gonna move out and get on with your life? Oh, think again my boyo. The two of you are gonna get to inflict a world of hurt and legal bills on each other, first.
As I'd expected, the bank records were a dead end. There were a number of suspicious withdrawals over the last six months, but the mark had covered his tracks pretty well, and I couldn't tell where the money had ended up. Luckily, I had a few more tricks up my sleeve.
I eventually hit pay dirt in the "old mail" file. Most operating systems don't actually delete a piece of mail when you finish reading it. Instead, they store it in a buffer for a month or so, in case you need to go back and review a correspondence. A lot of interesting stuff can pile up in that buffer. Including an account statement from a bank in the Cayman Islands.
Bingo.
So that's where the mark was hiding his money. I forwarded a copy of the statement to my client. I'm sure it would make for some interesting reading. Then I clicked my way back to Daniel's web page, and left the screen on the set of pictures that the mark had been admiring.
I washed my hands, splashed some water on my face, and then went out to put the mark's palmtop back on the bar before he noticed it was missing. All in all, I was feeling very pleased with myself. The whole operation had gone off like a charm.
Until the final stage, that is.
Except that Daniel and the mark were gone. They weren't at
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